


Layer by layer

by LordessC



Series: Of Bastards and Broken Things [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hate Sex, Loss of Identity, M/M, Non-Consensual Blow Job, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poor Theon, Ramsay is His Own Warning, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadism, god what have i done, this is filthy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 11:56:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18282011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordessC/pseuds/LordessC
Summary: At the beginning, there is nothing but prideful, pretentious Theon. Ramsay hates it. So all he has to do is to make that smugness disappear entirely, right? And he will -he'll peel all that ridiculous arrogance off, layer by layer.





	Layer by layer

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so... This is the first one-shot about Game of Thrones I ever wrote. At the time, my memories of the show were... A bit blurry, so to speak, and so was my mind, so I do not guarantee that the characters' personalities will be a hundred percent accurate. I will however guarantee that they will not be as inaccurate as in some fan fictions I shall not name here because I don't even want to remember about them. (They were BAD. Worse than this, and this is already probably my worse work on this fandom, unless parodies count. I definitely know how to attract readers. Anyway.) It's ironical, though, because this story is all about dark irony and... It's probably the gayest Ramsay I ever wrote (once again, unless parodies count), yet I had not even noticed how gay it was until I read it again... Also, if you can literally taste the fear in this story, that's completely normal, as I was highly afraid of Ramsay when I wrote it. Which KIND OF changed after I pictured about every character even remotely related to him breaking him as a form of revenge (except for Euron, it's just because he's a sadistic prick, and overall just insane). Kind of. Totally. *coughing wildly* Anyway, I hope you'll still enjoy reading this! (If you even still want to read that piece of trash after I spent 230 words insulting it and giving you good reasons not to do that.)  
> Also it's supposed to be a triptych but I'm too uninspired to write the other two parts of it so it'll probably just remain a one-shot for... Ever. And my summary won't make any sense for another eternity. Yeah.

If anything, Ramsay had a sense of irony —quite possibly the darkest, most twisted one that had ever existed. Sometimes, Theon wishes it hadn’t. Sometimes…  
All the time.  
Perhaps it was karma.  
He looked at the man —or rather the monster—’s insane, absurdly wide-opened eyes.  
… Or maybe he was the unluckiest person in the entire world. Yes, this seemed likelier.

“What?” He asked, a psychotic grin spread across his face —he appeared to be in a good mood, which would have been positive had he been any other being on Earth: but Theon knew better. “Can’t you see how kind I am being there? To let you enjoy what you have lost?”  
_You call this enjoyment?! And besides, whose fault is that?!_ , he would have yelled if he was still new to Ramsay’s sadistic mind games and psychological as well as physical tortures. Instead, he shifted his gaze back to what was in front of him —to his tragical, unbearable, and painfully ironic fate.  
To Ramsay’s spread-open, bare thighs, to his manhood covered only by a thin, dark undergarment.

He gulped, his entire body trembling as he attempted to make himself smaller, hunched his shoulders, and tried to disappear. Oh, how much he would have loved to disappear right then and there. But he couldn’t, he didn't hold such power. He was no longer half the man he used to be —and was he even still a man? It sure did not feel like it—, not even a shadow of the past him, then why? Why did this broken vessel, meant for a wretched soul which was just as torn apart and slowly fading away, had to keep suffering? Couldn’t the Gods just let him die? Did they even exist, really? He just wanted all of this to stop, wanted to run away from Ramsay and to never look into another human being’s eyes, not even his own. Especially not his own. It was all too much, his crimes, Ramsay’s endless torments, the humiliation he had to endure —it was too much for a single person, for his weakened shoulders to bear. But there was no escape.

“I don’t have all day.” Ramsay reminded him with a smile and a light tone —more threatening than any other he could have used.  
With the frailest resignation in the world, Theon finally surrendered, ripped off the last bulwark between him and his dreadful, unavoidable destiny —and took Ramsay’s entire length in his mouth at once, even though it meant choking on it. He did not want to see it. Cruelly enough, tasting it was worse —but he would have been forced to eventually anyway. So, at very least, he wished not to have to look at it: because had he gotten even a glimpse of it, he would have remembered it, and when he would have relived this moment over and over again —and he knew he would, he always did, the pain and humiliation were like a stain he could not erase and which tormented him even when Ramsay was busy with something or someone else, he simply had no rest whatsoever—, he’d have remembered this image along with the feeling, taste, and dishonor, if he had any honor left. He had long since given up on trying to get out of his predicament, and to escape from Ramsay’s clutches —now, he just put his best efforts in limiting the horrors he had to go through: and even this was more often than not far from enough.

He coughed, as his tormentor shoved his shaft even deeper without any warning nor mercy. From his part, it was only to be expected. Theon felt his throat being assaulted without pity, and his stomach twisting into a knot as he difficultly repressed the urge to vomit. But Ramsay did not bother to move, merely staying in place, keeping Theon from breathing. He twisted pitifully, trying to find an angle allowing him to inhale and exhale, but there was none, Ramsay’s cock, without being monstrous, still thick and far enough to block the way. His lungs begun to ache, as if they had caught on fire. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he had the hardest time holding them back: he knew the sight of them would only have satisfied Ramsay, and worse, left him desiring _more_ , and getting even rougher. He tried to focus on something else, in vain, to breathe through his nose —but to no avail, considering his very trachea was obstructed and not just his mouth—, to back away: but it only caused Ramsay to hold him in place by tugging viciously at his hair. Knowing his torturer, he would not even let him die, would pull away right before Theon could even fall into a blessed, welcomed unconsciousness.

“I wonder.” He spoke casually, as if to an old friend over a warm supper. “Can you still get aroused now, or is it definitely out of question ?”  
Theon was pretty sure the answer was “no”, then again, he had never been in an exciting situation after… That time… Then again, he was also fairly certain that Ramsay’s curiosity was nothing but yet another act, just like this new form of torture, to remind him of his lost manhood. As if he could forget about it. As if he would ever. Even now that the absence of weight and the emptiness had become familiar, that his body had grown accustomed to it —his mind certainly hadn’t. How could he have? This part of his anatomy he had always taken pride in, that had women impressed and their eyes brimming with lust and desire, that was the pinnacle of his manliness —gone. Now, it seemed even his sister was more virile than him. His pride had been shattered to pieces in an instant. And now, Ramsay was doing his best to crush the last remaining shards to dust.

He felt the lack of oxygen getting to his head, and dizziness overcame him. The edges of his vision became blurry, more, more, and—  
Ramsay jerked him away, probably tearing off his head some of his elongated, not-so-red-anymore hair in the process. Theon coughed and choked and sucked in greedy gulps of air, panting rapidly. Ramsay rolled his eyes, but without letting go of his satisfied grin, and did not hesitate before using Theon’s head as a surface to rest his feet on.  
“You do realize that you could at least _cooperate_ a little? I feel hurt that you don’t want to participate, you know. Next time, I won’t be so generous…”  
Theon would have laughed, in any other situation. But considering it was _Ramsay_ he was dealing with, generous was indeed appropriate enough to describe how he had behaved —and that was the worst part. Because it meant he could be, and would not have any qualms about being, way, way more awful.

Theon’s breath had not even fully returned to normal, that already, Ramsay had put a hand on his head and pushed brutally, forcing Theon’s mouth and throat to impale themselves on his length.  
Cooperate. What he wanted Theon to do was clear as day, but… Would he even be able to? He knew exactly what to try, girls had experimented it on him… But he just couldn’t bring himself to stoop down that low, to do this. Not to a man. Not to some sadistic bastard who would not enjoy the blowjob in itself, but the humiliation it had caused. Definitely not to Ramsay. That’s when he met the latter’s gaze: still as bright blue, still as insane, still as impossibly frightening. Behind the feigned kindness, danced the flames of Hell.  
And so Theon bobbed his head, first slowly then more rapidly, while making sure he created additional vibrations by producing throaty noises which were so muffled they could not even be heard in the end —thankfully.

Ramsay did not moan or whine, he chuckled. Once again, it was to be expected. Still, as Theon picked up the pace and accelerated, he let out a small gasp, before intently chewing his lip, and beginning to thrust harshly into his mouth. Theon attempted to focus on something else to forget the pain, and contemplated biting his shaft, and not letting go until he tore it off —giving him a taste of his own medicine. He wondered what Ramsay would do to him, if he dared to try that. Flay him alive? Feed him to his dogs? It didn’t seem that anything he could do to him would be any worse than what he already was doing, or planning on doing. Perhaps more painful, but at least, deadly. And death seemed like a blessing, at this point. Then again, he had no idea how far Ramsay’s twisted mind was even capable of going —and he definitely did not want to discover it.

A thrust, more powerful than the previous ones, brought him mercilessly back to the harsh reality. And suddenly, it was too much. He reached his limit and begun to whimper. As his jaw was going from too outstretched for comfort to so painfully sore he would have trouble chewing for a week —not that he received much food anyway, and it would have been painful either way given how shattered his front teeth were—, as he was being used and abused in such a thoroughly rough way, as suffering grew stronger and stronger with each new cruel thrust, more tears welled up his eyes. But this time, he could not suppress them, and he started sobbing, too hurt to even realize what he was doing.  
And with a repressed moan and a wicked smirk, Ramsay came to the melody of these wails.

Theon choked, the cock too far up his throat to leave him with any choice but to swallow the bitter, sticky load. He felt it trickling down his esophagus and ending up in his stomach, sickeningly lukewarm. For some obscure reason, he felt even more soiled by this than by the shaft still lingering and softening in his mouth. Perhaps because it would go away, while the semen would remain, maybe even enter his organism, and— he did not want to think about it. But it was too late: the idea of Ramsay’s load penetrating his body, staying there for a good while and being used by his organism to sustain him in lack of a better source of energy was already etched into the corner of his mind, almost enough to make him vomit —but he stopped himself again, God knew what twisted, disgusting ideas it would have given to Ramsay.

The latter finally pulled away, too brusquely for Theon to have the time to proceed what was happening and to close his eyes or look somewhere else. Doing exactly what he had tried to avoid, Ramsay’s manhood entered his mind like it had entered his mouth —pinkish, half-drowned in a bush of dark hairs that covered its surroundings and were going up to his navel, smaller than it had felt. Coated in his saliva, and still connected to his mouth by a thin trail of drool, which he immediately broke. Theon clenched his teeth, or what was left of them, and even this tiny move hurt. Feeling used, stained, aching, exhausted and broken, he tried his best not to collapse from overexertion, watching without seeing his tormentor put his undergarments back on, along with his breeches, a faint pout distorting his lips instead of his usual sick smirk. If his eyes had not been solid proof that he was the Storm God in flesh and blood, he would almost have seemed sane in this very instant. But as soon as he got dressed up again, the trademark grin returned, somehow even more menacing than before.  
“Hey, Reek, don’t look so sad… You should be used by now to me taking cocks away from you.”

Indeed, Ramsay definitely had a sense of irony.


End file.
